Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Amount Of Pills We're Taking.
rainy mornings.
2 reviewsGerard and his girlfriend Natasha, who have four kids, are making their living selling drugs on the dreary streets of New Jersey. They're miserable life just keeps getting worse as their own drug a...
1Moving
Before I start this story, I just want to state that this is COMPLETE FICTION!! I came up with this idea at work a couple days ago. This is just the product of my obsession with drug culture and my retarded imagination. I am sorry if you think I'm falsy representing the band members Of My Chemical Romance. Because, the guys are going to be doing things in this story that they would never do. That is the beauty of fiction. So, just read it, or don't read it. Reveiws and ratings would be beautiful. Thank you all! Now on with the story!
Chapter 1.
I popped my head in the door to make sure the kids were still asleep and crept down the hallway. Gerard had fallen sleep on the living room couch with an ice pack pressed to his swollen head. I sighed heavily and slipped on my wet Vans and one of Gerard's hoodies.
I glanced back over at his swollen face and slipped out the front door.
I hopped in the car and started the engine, watching the smoke rise from the hood against the freezing Jersey air. The road in front of the tires carried my thoughts into a cycle of self abuse.
Clouded memories tracing back to the moment I took my first hit from his lips, sucking the toxins from his lungs.
With three kids under our belt, living in a shitty trailor in the crummiest town in New Jersey, we had no choice but to pick up the deadly habit and pass it around for a few spare bucks.
By the second year of this, we began to wonder why we were still stuck in the same place we were two years prior to our brilliant chemically enhanced idea.
Ray said big bucks were in it. We never even thought twice about Ray not having anymore money than we did; so, we bought bags of the white powder and began walking the lamp light streets in search of bloody noses.
Gerard's brother, Mikey, stayed home with the kids, worried sick every night that we were lying in an alley somewhere, our blood splattered on the pavement we were crushed against.
But, we always came home, a few dollars richer, a few bruises more. We soon found out that people who bought this shit, weren't the nicest people in the world. We rarely got through a sale without a busted lip or a bruised rib.
The need for survival and the love for our children burdened heavy on our backs, picking us up and carrying us along.
I wiped a tear from my face as the faces of my children danced in my mind. Daniel would be 5 soon, with Regina on his tail at 4. Lola and Madison took the lead with their 7 years. Twins were never easy, but always fun in their only little ways.
I didn't want my kids growing up knowing what their parents did to put food on the table and clothes on their back. It broke my heart everyday, walking out the door with Regina in Mikey's arms crying after me.
Gerard would pull on my hand and whisper to me, "She'll be fine once we're out the door, Mikey's puting her to bed soon anyway." And we would leave untill morning.
Analyzing my life didn't really make much sense at that point, it was pretty much fucked up to the point of no return.
I sighed heavily and turned back into the driveway to my house and turned off the engine. I gazed at the small mobil home sitting in front of me. It was still dark out, all except for the small porch light on the tiny little piece of wood that was suppose to serve as a porch.
I could hear one of the neighbors in the trailor park yelling about something from inside their paper thin walled house. Not that this was unusual, fighting was a way of life in a trailor park, it's just what everyone did to pass the time.
Some families play scrabble or watch a movie, we all fought. Or did drugs or drink untill we pass out on the couch, with our kids running the house, hell, the neighborhood. Everyone here was the same.
I took the keys from the ignition and opened the car door, planting my shoes on the dew covered ground.
I closed the car door and fumbled with my keys, inserting one into the cheap front door of my house. The door popped open and I quietly snuck inside, closing it behind me. Gerard was sitting up on the couch, I could see his back hunched over towards me.
"Where'd you go?" he asked, his head resting in his hands.
"Just out for a drive." I said, taking off my shoes and sitting down beside him, rubbing his wide back with my left palm.
"Natasha?" He asked, looking at me.
"Hm?"
"Take me with you next time."
Chapter 1.
I popped my head in the door to make sure the kids were still asleep and crept down the hallway. Gerard had fallen sleep on the living room couch with an ice pack pressed to his swollen head. I sighed heavily and slipped on my wet Vans and one of Gerard's hoodies.
I glanced back over at his swollen face and slipped out the front door.
I hopped in the car and started the engine, watching the smoke rise from the hood against the freezing Jersey air. The road in front of the tires carried my thoughts into a cycle of self abuse.
Clouded memories tracing back to the moment I took my first hit from his lips, sucking the toxins from his lungs.
With three kids under our belt, living in a shitty trailor in the crummiest town in New Jersey, we had no choice but to pick up the deadly habit and pass it around for a few spare bucks.
By the second year of this, we began to wonder why we were still stuck in the same place we were two years prior to our brilliant chemically enhanced idea.
Ray said big bucks were in it. We never even thought twice about Ray not having anymore money than we did; so, we bought bags of the white powder and began walking the lamp light streets in search of bloody noses.
Gerard's brother, Mikey, stayed home with the kids, worried sick every night that we were lying in an alley somewhere, our blood splattered on the pavement we were crushed against.
But, we always came home, a few dollars richer, a few bruises more. We soon found out that people who bought this shit, weren't the nicest people in the world. We rarely got through a sale without a busted lip or a bruised rib.
The need for survival and the love for our children burdened heavy on our backs, picking us up and carrying us along.
I wiped a tear from my face as the faces of my children danced in my mind. Daniel would be 5 soon, with Regina on his tail at 4. Lola and Madison took the lead with their 7 years. Twins were never easy, but always fun in their only little ways.
I didn't want my kids growing up knowing what their parents did to put food on the table and clothes on their back. It broke my heart everyday, walking out the door with Regina in Mikey's arms crying after me.
Gerard would pull on my hand and whisper to me, "She'll be fine once we're out the door, Mikey's puting her to bed soon anyway." And we would leave untill morning.
Analyzing my life didn't really make much sense at that point, it was pretty much fucked up to the point of no return.
I sighed heavily and turned back into the driveway to my house and turned off the engine. I gazed at the small mobil home sitting in front of me. It was still dark out, all except for the small porch light on the tiny little piece of wood that was suppose to serve as a porch.
I could hear one of the neighbors in the trailor park yelling about something from inside their paper thin walled house. Not that this was unusual, fighting was a way of life in a trailor park, it's just what everyone did to pass the time.
Some families play scrabble or watch a movie, we all fought. Or did drugs or drink untill we pass out on the couch, with our kids running the house, hell, the neighborhood. Everyone here was the same.
I took the keys from the ignition and opened the car door, planting my shoes on the dew covered ground.
I closed the car door and fumbled with my keys, inserting one into the cheap front door of my house. The door popped open and I quietly snuck inside, closing it behind me. Gerard was sitting up on the couch, I could see his back hunched over towards me.
"Where'd you go?" he asked, his head resting in his hands.
"Just out for a drive." I said, taking off my shoes and sitting down beside him, rubbing his wide back with my left palm.
"Natasha?" He asked, looking at me.
"Hm?"
"Take me with you next time."
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